Middle Name
by Culumacilinte
Summary: What IS James Norrington's middle name anyway? Slashy Sparrington goodness.


Middle Name

Pairing: Sparrington (Jack/James)

Rating: PG-13-ish… dunno

A/N: I am an avid Sparrington reader, but have never tried my hand at writing one. I realized this as I was sitting in Religion class, bored off my arse. I got the idea, and decided to have a go at writing it. Reviews are much appreciated.

Commodore James Norrington sat at his desk, tiredly sipping from a brandy snifter (made of the finest Irish crystal), and poring over reports of any pirates in the area. Nothing out of the ordinary, to be sure, save the extraordinary accounts concerning one Jack Sparrow.

Bloody pirate- thought Norrington- why must he be so different? How does one deal with a pirate who boards passing merchant ships, as instead of slaughtering the crew and setting light to the ship itself, asks if they have any spare thread, he needs to repair the sails, and, unfortunately, has run out. How, in particular, does he, James Norrington, deal with a pirate who he is sure is following him, and not for the usual reasons- murder, kidnap, rape, what have you. No, Sparrow, the last time he had seen him, had been up in the rigging of the Pearl, blowing him a kiss and shouting cheerily "Until next time, Commodore!" James was confounded by this man, who seemed, somehow, to bend all his rigid perceptions of what pirates ought to be, and somehow, this made it difficult to justify hanging him.

He sighed, and poured himself some more brandy. The Commodore did not drink often, but he found, now, that he needed to relax, and the liquor was the only thing that was going to do it. He took a deep sip- perhaps deeper than might be deemed proper, but he was alone after all- and closed his eyes, welcoming the feeling of the burning liquid making its way down his throat. He licked a stray drop from his upper lip and leaned back in his chair. He could relax a little now, though he had to wait till he went to bed to unwind completely. Now, there was still the slight possibility that some officer might come in, so he had to stay stiff and formal.

Just as he was letting himself calm down, taking another swallow of brandy, a voice spoke out of the darkness in front of the desk.

"Commodore James L. Norrington." The voice said, "What's the 'L' stand for then? Mmm, Commodore?"

He leapt up from his chair, drawing his sword.

"Sparrow!"

He spat the name, glaring contemptuously at the figure still veiled in shadow. A soft chuff of laughter, and Sparrow sidled forward into the light, smirking 18 carat at him. He was much the same as the last time James had seen him, that same wild mane of almost-black hair, tangled with dreadlocks and beads and who knows what else, that skin the same bronze of a man who spent every possible moment at sea, those hands in perpetual motion, those hips swaying sensuously, as though he was out to seduce the entire world, and succeeding at it.

"Captain Sparrow, if ye don't mind."

The nerve of this pirate! Sneaking into his private office, and now cheeking him! How dare he act so calm and unconcerned? As though James didn't have enough to think about already.

"Actually, I do mind. Very much. Now, what in blazes are you doing in my office?"

Jack attempted to pull an innocent face. Curiously enough, it worked.

"Came to see how me favourite Commodore was doin' without me, o' course."

He held up a bottle with a green ribbon tied 'round its neck. In the candlelight, the amber liquid sparkled enticingly. Rum, predictably enough.

"I've brung ye a gift, Jamie."

Disdain was etched on James' every feature.

"It's Commodore Norrington to you, pirate. And what makes you think that I would want rum? In particular, your rum?"

Jack glanced at James from beneath hooded lids.

"Oh, just thought ye might a bit o'… loosening up, as it were. That gold, by the way?"

He gestured vaguely at the nameplate on the desk, engraved with the name 'Commodore James L. Norrington'. Norrington ignored the question.

"You will swing for this, Sparrow, be assured."

"Oh, I'm not too worried, mate. Now what d'ye say ye put that magnificent sword away, so's we can commence negotiations in a…ah… more peaceful manner. Mmm?"

Now he didn't know if the brandy had dulled his senses- slowed his reactions, or if he merely didn't care anymore, but suddenly Sparrow was directly in front of him, lightly nudging the tip of his sword away. His breath ghosted James' face.

"Come, come now, James. Do siddown."

"I-"

James started to protest, but Sparrow shoved him down into his chair and laid a finger to his lips.

"Oh, shut up, Jamie."

"Mister Sparrow, would you please get off my lap?"

Norrington's voice was slightly strained, and he shoved weakly at the pirate sitting atop him. Jack grinned, shaking his head.

"Not until ye tell me yer middle name."

"Why on God's green earth do you care so much about my middle name?"

Sparrow grinned infuriatingly at James, who stared somewhat desperately back, wishing for nothing more than to have Captain Jack Sparrow off his lap, and preferably out of his office.

"Well, I figured it were only proper like- before…"

He trailed off, leaning closer, until the distance between then was saturated with his rum-scent, scant inches from the alarmed Commodore's face. He pouted, gazing up at James though long lashes, looking very much like the whore he was reputed to be.

"Before what, Sparrow?"

The Commodore's voice was harsh in the suddenly thick air of the office. Sparrow had leaned closer still, if that was possible, and the dancing of his nimble fingers was distracting James dreadfully. Almost, but never quite, touching the starched fabric of his waistcoat, his rings gleaming in the candlelight. His mind reeled. The pirate's lips seemed obscenely plump and red- far too close to his face, his kohl-lined eyes a chocolaty brown, deep and rich and soulful, but with a spark of gold, like honey, in their depths. They were glinting roguishly now, teasing James mercilessly.

"Can't you guess, Commodore?"

On the last word, Jack ground his hips into James', eliciting a startle gasp, which turned into a moan, quickly stifled. Jack's grin was feral as he regarded the flushed Commodore.

"Before I do this."

And with that, he bent his great wild head and kissed Norrington full on the mouth. At first it was gentle, but when James did not push him off, he deepened the kiss, tongue probing at reluctant lips until he gained entrance, and proceeded to ravish Jamie's brandy-sweet mouth. He licked lewdly at James' teeth, and again bucked his hips into those of the man beneath him.

The instant James moaned into Jack's mouth, moving slightly against him, Jack pulled back, wearing a wicked leer.

"Sparrow…"

Norrington's eyes, though dark with desire, were confused as he regarded Jack. Jack grinned at him, like a smug cat, eyes dark and predatory.

"Middle name?"

When he received no answer, he silently slipped open the top button of James' shirt, then the next, then the next, baring deliciously white skin. Jack sighed, pretending to consider what to do. His hand snaked up under the pristine linen to tweak at one of James' nipples. James gasped and a shiver ran through him, raising goosebumps on that pale skin. He suddenly seized the back of Jack's neck, and treated him to a vicious kiss, all battling tongues and teeth. Jack smiled with that unmistakable air of a predator toying with its prey, having the time of its life.

"Oh, the things I'll do to you, Jack Sparrow… payback… for haunting my dreams, for making me seem the fool… yes…"

James was hissing into Jack's ear, eyes alight with lust, hands like vices on Jack's arms. But Jack ground into Norrington's hips, and as James relaxed, he slipped off his lap, and was, in an instant, at the door. James looked up, a mixture of confusion and panic and lust in his sea-green eyes.

"Jack…"

"Didn't tell me yer middle name, luv. Toldja ye had to tell me before I proceeded, and ye didn't, so… I gotta go. 'S your fault ye know, for being so stubborn. Bloody Navy types…"

James looked at Jack, not comprehending for a moment, and then a weight settled in somewhere in the middle of his chest, a terrible weight that he hadn't even noticed was gone until it returned. Suddenly he sat up.

"Jack!"

The pirate turned, smiling, though with a sad glint in the back of his eyes.

"Aye?"

"Lysander."

"What's that?"

A watery half-smile graced Norrington's lips.

"My middle name- it's Lysander."

Jack smirked at James and made his slow way over to the chair where he was sprawled. He picked up his gift of rum with a suggestive glance.

"What say we open up this fine bottle, eh? We've got a long night ahead of us, Commodore."

James smiled.


End file.
